


Forgive Me Father

by theywere-neverhomeless (notyourdadsaugspecialist)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blasphemy, M/M, POV Second Person, Priest Castiel, Priest Kink, Priest!Cas, whoops my hand slipped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 20:23:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8174843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyourdadsaugspecialist/pseuds/theywere-neverhomeless





	

You go to Sunday Mass, like you do every Sunday. But today is different. You see a new Father there. He's gorgeous. Stunning eyes that spark with light, with goodness and purity and -sin- and you lust. Oh how you lust. You go home and pray for forgiveness, and you feel better. For a moment.

You go again next sunday, and there he is. Strong, clean jaw and full lips that sing benedictions so sweetly and you wonder how sweetly they would moan your name.

You go to confessional.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

"Name your sins, child, and atone."

And you nearly choke on your next breath, because you recognize that voice. It sears your insides, fanning the embers of sin curling in your gut.

And you confess, and it's explicit and lewd and you are probably going to hell, but the soft, harsh breaths of the Father seated next to you keep you anchored here. You both know he should interrupt you, should tell you to show the Church some respect and seek penitence in the privacy of your own home. But he doesn't, and he sits there, breathing harshly as you weave a sinful tale of the lustful thoughts you have of him.

When you're done, you're both breathing hard, and his voice is rough as he assigns you 10 Hail Mary's and a passage of scripture about resisting the temptations of the flesh.

You keep these in mind and seek forgiveness when you're alone in your bed, but your hand finds its way between your legs and you're sure the devil has taken hold of you for how quickly you reach orgasm.

The next day you go back to confessional. You're drawn there by some higher power, but whether it's heaven or hell, you can't say.

It's the same Father again, and this time you pleasure yourself as you tell him the long, detailed fantasy you have of him absolving you of your sins in front of the whole congregation, the debauchery of a punishment that has you coming, hard, and you have to bite down on your fist as you moan out, "Father," quietly in the private space of the confessional booth.

He moans out a broken cry, and you wonder if he was indulging in the pleasure as well.

He sends you away without even a scripture tonight, and you feel guilty, but not guilty enough to stop.

The next time it happens, he sucks in a breath as soon as you say the words, "Forgive me, Father," but when you change the second half of the sentence to "for I am about to sin," he keens softly, an aroused, defeated noise.

And neither of you are sure how it got to this, but you're sucking him off in the confessional booth, defiling this holy place with your sin, and it's never felt so good.

He's raw and fresh and you know he's never touched another person this way, but when his trembling hands find their way between your legs, that thought excites you even more. You enjoy corrupting this man, and the prayerful way he says your name as he brings you to orgasm has you feeling clean and pure, despite the sinful nature of your activities.

Eventually the confessional quickies aren't enough for you anymore, and you approach him after evening service one day, after most of the congregation has gone home.

He looks up when he hears you knock on his office door, and you barely stifle a groan as his beautiful eyes widen in surprise, then darken with heat.

In moments, you're on each other, frantically grasping and touching and licking and before you know it he has you bent over his desk, his rosary slung around your neck and he holds it tightly against your airway in a way that sets your whole body aflame. Never enough to choke, but a gentle pressure that has you thrumming with need and you make a plaintive, begging sound. He takes mercy on you, and you're so very grateful when he touches you where the heat is the worst, where you ache for him.

Trembling hands caress your hips as he guides himself inside you and you both groan. You clench around him when he begs God for his forgiveness as he presses into you, body surging with need when he says your name like a prayer, just like in the booth.

It doesn't take long for either of you to reach orgasm, and he gently lifts you up onto his lap, stroking you gently as you come down. Tender, sweet kisses have tears springing to your eyes.

Wordlessly, you both clean yourselves up, and when you head for the door you look back, searching for guilt or shame in those captivating eyes of his. You find none, only tenderness and affection, and with a smile that's equally gentle on your part, you leave.

You both can't wait for this to happen again.


End file.
